Snow Drop
by Niphredil
Summary: Legolas Romance. Read and Review!!!!!


I do not own anyone expect the mysterious girl. Read and Reveiw!!!  
  
Snow Drop  
  
The rain pounded down fiercely on her back as she swiftly fled her pursuiters. Her feet flew over earth and stone with great speed and celerity. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she dashed onward on the forest path. Arrows flew past her ears, grazing her cheeks and gliding through her drenched golden hair. She stumbled as she hit a large rock that jutted out into her path. Her lungs burned for air and her muscles screamed for rest. Neither did they get. An arrow that finally hit true stabbed brutally into her shoulder, causing her to cry out in anguish. She stumbled again, but still sprinted on. The edge of the forest grew closer and closer with each passing second. "I must make it!" she willed herself to reach the edge of the forest and safety of the river. "I must!" As she drew closer to the river, a single arrow fell true into her. She collapsed and fell to the muddy earth, struggling to breath as the world dimmed and grew black.  
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Prince Legolas of Mirkwood traveled toward Imaldris on the forest road. He checked his horse to a slower pace as elven archers raced toward him. The sheets of rain pounded onto the forest road, soaking the archers and Legolas. The dense canopy of trees did not even slightly defer the flow of it.  
"Prince Legolas, orcs are heading this way. We are out of arrows and many of our men have fallen." As soon as he heard this news, he dug his heels firmly into the sides of his steed and sped off toward the battle.  
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The orcs crowded around the few remaining archers, surrounding them. Bodies lay strewn around the battleground, covering the grass in black and silver blood. Through the thunder and rain, the orcs could not hear the swift thunder of the approaching hooves. An assault of arrows flew toward the circle, striking down half of the remaining orcs. Legolas swiftly shot several more orcs as his fellow elves took down the rest with their knifes.  
"Is everything alright?" he said as extracted the undamaged arrows from his foes.  
"Yes sir. We found a human girl near the river. We fear she is dead." A body lay several feet from the river, drenched in scarlet blood and rain. Legolas went to her and examined her injuries. She had only sustained a minor injury to her shoulder from an arrow, but the other arrow was the one that concerned him. It had pierced through her back and out her chest, directly where her heart was. He gently pressed two of his long slender fingers against her neck and placed an ear on her chest. Her choked and ragged breathing was faint, but there nonetheless. Her pulse was weak and uneven.  
"I will take her to Imaldris with me."  
"Yes sir." Legolas gently lifted her body and carried her to his steed. He swiftly mounted and whispered a few words of encouragement to the horse in Elvish.  
"Noro lim, Midnight!!!"  
They rode off swiftly under the cloak of night.  
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Hard hooves flew over rock and earth. Its speed was so great that rider and horse merged as one in a multi-colored blur. The rider swiftly coaxed the horse to a halt and examined the bloodied bundle that lay limply in his lean and muscular arms. He pressed two snow-white slender finders against an equally alabaster neck. A faint pulsing was there, but fainter still than before. He spoke in a foreign tongue, the language of the High Elves, and the horse upon the instant of hearing this sprinted swiftly onward toward the hidden city of Imaldris, home of the Last Homely House. They flew toward the gates on the wings of the wind, stopping gracefully to emit the password. "Elbereth!" he cried, his fair voice carrying for miles in every direction in the desolate forest and waste that lay around him. The ornate woodland gates creaked and swung slowly inward for the elf's admittance. He sped on.  
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As he reached the stables, he leapt off the horse with his burden, and sprinted into the royally furnished house, although it was not like any normal house. Its intricate woodworking and artisanship was something that someone could gaze at and be entranced by for hours, reading the stories that lay under the character of the wood and decor. The elf nimbly sped by them, paying them no heed. He opened two ornately carved doors and entered a spacious hall. An elderly elf with ebony hair set with a silver crown and eyes as cold and as dark as the deepest imaginable twilight sat in a kingly chair of teak wood carved with great artistry at the opposite end of the expansive hall. As the doors slammed to a close, a fire of anger was ignited in his eyes, spreading quickly and engulfing his regal, stern and wizened features in a blanket of fury. As he saw the youth, recognition dawned upon his face, while fury was quickly replaced with fatherly concern.   
"Legolas, my dearest nephew, you were not expected to arrive before a fortnight or so! What brings you to come in such swift haste?"  
"Lord Elrond," the Prince of Mirkwood said as he knelt reverently upon his knee, "A large band of yrch attacked our western border near the Carrock. This human girl was found fifteen to twenty paces from the riverbed; barely alive and injured with two orc arrows. I sped here to see if her life could be saved, since our palace healers are mere novices compared to your vast intelligence in the healing arts, my lord." His princely features were strained with extreme care and concern for this unknown maiden. Lord Elrond's heart softened toward this girl by the display of concern by his nephew. He came over and glanced at the extent of her blood loss and where her wounds were sustained. "I fear that she will soon be dead without attention immediately, my lord. She could possibly know some important information, since the orcs must have been chasing her for some reason." Legolas appeared to be pleading with his elven senior. Elrond, however, did not need any persuasion.   
"Very well, follow me to my chambers."  
The Lord of Imaldris, which was also called Rivendell in the Westron tongue, led the elf deep into the heart of the ancient building to a dimly lit room. It was furnished in royal colors of rich fabrics and velvets, deep blues, rich plums, serene pine greens and luscious shades of cranberry. Elrond said an elvish word of command and soft light, as moonlight streams into the forest on a clear night, flooded the room.  
"Lay her down on the bed." Legolas gently set her down on the silken sheets. She turned her head slightly and groaned. "Go into the cabinet on the opposite wall and fetch me the crystal vial filled with a clear cordial on the top shelf." Legolas carefully reached up and lifted the precious vial from its resting place. As light hit the crystal of the vial, miniature rainbows glittered off the cranberry walls of the room. He cupped it gently in his steady hands and carried it to Elrond. Elrond held the bottle to the light. The crystal shone as if the light of a star were trapped inside of it. "This vial contains cordial of the juice of fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. It is extremely rare, for only in the distant land of Narnia can you find this cordial. Few ever dare to make the treacherous journey or can even get there. This simple cordial, however rare it maybe, has extremely potent healing powers. Observe." He gently broke off the tip of the arrow. She winced in pain. Legolas knelt beside her and took her pale hand in his. Elrond, as slowly as he could, extracted the arrow from her shoulder. Her back arched off the bed and she cried out in agony. He pulled out the crystal stopper of the vial and a sweet aroma filled the room. He carefully poured three single drops into her exposed wound. Her vice-grip on Legolas' hand loosened as she relaxed. Her flesh moved and curled back upon itself to heal without a scar. He reached and touched the arrow that protruded from her breast. She moved away from his touch and shivered in pain. "I cannot touch the arrow to get it out of her."  
"Let me try." Legolas tenderly took the shaft of the arrow into his fingers and severed the tip of the arrow from it. She grimaced in slight discomfort. He dislodged the rest of the shattered arrow from her bosom. She squirmed under his touch, but did not utter a single cry of protest. He took the vial and poured in three drops. The wound healed until it was only a scratch caressing her skin.   
"Pour on one more drop." As the drop of cordial hit the exposed dermal layer of her skin, it healed instantaneously. She shifted her head and sighed in her sleep. "Let her rest, Legolas. She will probably wake by morning." He rested a strong and comforting hand on the juvenile's shoulder, smiling. "Watch over her well tonight my kinsman." With that final remark, he placed the vial back on its shelf and closed the bureau. He gave Legolas a warm-hearted glance and walked with a stately gait out of the chamber. Legolas turned his anxious scrutiny over the mysterious lady. She smiled serenely in her sleep. He clasped her hand in his and caressed it as she slumbered.   
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End file.
